Constant River
by pratz
Summary: Festums do not give back what they take. Though Soushi returns, he is no exception.


Constant River

**Constant River**

Author: pratz

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Kazuki never knows much about free-falling. True, he dives, he surfs and he swims, going from the highest top to the bottom. True, too, that being inside Fafner does not feel like he is piloting a machine at all; it is just like flying and floating instead. Still, he does not know how it feels to suddenly appear above the ocean and just... fall.

People are screaming, horror evident in their voices, but Kazuki knows no bigger terror than being forced to have the Soushi-shaped hole ever since the Festums took Soushi from him. So he runs to get Soushi, shouting to Toomi to call her mother. The waves ripple beneath his feet, splitting themselves as if to give Kazuki a way to Soushi, the longest track he has ever run, the most painful longing. There. It is Soushi; whole, returned, _human_.

Kazuki knows he is supposed to do something, maybe asking about Soushi's wellbeing (because no one knows exactly what happens if someone is assimilated) or simply calling Soushi's name, but he finds himself muted, unable to utter even a word, as he cradles Soushi's head, wet, brown strands of hair clinging onto his fingers.

Soushi beats him to that.

"...Kazuki."

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Sometimes Kazuki is tempted to think of what he really wants; the Soushi like he has known or simply the Soushi who returns just like he promised. Once he humours the idea, but in the end it only leaves him frustrated. If he chooses the first, an egoist he is. If he chooses the later, he himself does not know if he can bear it.

The first step to conquer the highest mountain, Maya said once, is to accept it wholly; its daunting height, its ever unseen peak, its everything.

So Kazuki decides to accept.

_It's not that Minashiro-kun... forgets, Kazuki-kun_, Toomi-sensei tells him. _He's just sorting out what's inside his mind, and those that are important to him he notices. Well, actually I'm not so sure if 'remember' is the right word. After all, your mothe—I mean Akane-san and Kasugai-kun remember. Minashiro-kun remembers, too; he just decides not to notice everything_.

Part of him is glad that Soushi still remembers his name, giving him the slightest hope to hope for his Hope to come true; that he is somehow important to Soushi. Another part refuses to be put at peace with that rationalization; what guarantees him that Soushi will not forget? Aside from Kazuki's name, always uttered softly in a whisper, Soushi does not remember much. He remembers Tsubaki, of course, but only as an existence that matters to him and he barely remembers anything else. To help him, Kazuki speaks of the backyard in the shrine where they used to play together in their childhood and of the last matsuri they attended together. He speaks of Maya's latest climbing experience and Kenji's consecutive defeat in their weekly judo match. He, too, speaks of things that hurt; of Sakura and Kouyou and of Shouko and Mamoru.

He does not tell, however, of himself.

_You're not being fair to yourself_, Kenji chided, gently, despite their just calling it a day to their judo match. _You've waited, and now here he is. I don't think I—I mean _we_—at least Maya, Canon and I—can watch you wait for more, Kazuki. You don't have all the time in the world, you know_.

Kazuki hears Kenji's word like this: _you don't have all the time in the world because you never know if the Festums will likely come back to get Soushi again or if your end is coming near_.

Kazuki knows that Kenji is just being honest, but he is still struggling with understanding. He smiles as Soushi seats before him during breakfast and dinner and he smiles, too, as he tucks Soushi under the blanket every night, but sometimes he wonders whether Soushi notices if his smiles ever falter. They falter when Soushi speaks little to nothing all the time or when Soushi looks like he does not know what to answer to Kazuki's softly whispered "good night, Soushi."

Or probably it is just that Kazuki does not acceptunderstandaccept it all.

That night Soushi climbs onto his bed, shifting ever so lightly as if not wanting to wake Kazuki, but Kazuki knows anyway. Soushi curls beside him, his breath soft but steady, and Kazuki propels himself on his elbow to have better view of Soushi, concerned.

"Make it stop. We don't want this. We..." Soushi pauses, hesitance clear even in his almost unfamiliar Festum-assimilated voice, "don't understand why this hurts."

"What hurts? Where?"

Soushi takes one of Kazuki hands and presses it to his pyjama-clothed chest. "Here," he whispers. "It hurts when we see you smile. We don't understand why Minashiro Soushi hurts."

It ends with Kazuki blurting out from his bedroom and getting away as far as he can from the house, from Soushi, from the things both Soushi and he know that they hurt.

Kazuki does not understand the pain, the distant and alien pain, and he thinks SoushiFestumSoushi does not understand it either.

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Maya says that once one reaches the top of a hill, one then will look below and sees how life is running to the feet of the hill. It is quiet and serene there where the rivers were born, but rivers do not stay still; they grow and stream. Kazuki knows of rivers that were born in the mountain then rivulet down to the ocean, to the final end of their journey, and he knows that what begins will always end and nothing can stop the ever endless circle of life. That is the very wisdom of Mankind; one that Festums are learning to understand and Kazuki is learning to accept.

Soushi is waiting for him at his living room when he comes back early in the morning. Kazuki's thoughts are still jumbled and confused and he is hurting everywhere, but whatever it is, it can wait as he spots Soushi there. Words die early in his throat, so Kazuki steps closer to Soushi and wordlessly pulls Soushi into his arm. Soushi seems unsure and strangely uncomfortable, but Kazuki understands Soushi's gesture and Soushi himself more than anyone. He wants them to learn together, to understand the pain, guilt, apology and comfort, each and every bit of them. They both will understand and accept. They will, for sure, and after that maybe they both will find something more, something more precious.

"I know, Soushi," he says softly, voice muffled against Soushi's hair and the fabric on Soushi's shoulder. "I know."

Silence ticks further, but no one pulls away from each other.

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End file.
